Murder by Page One Page 9

  He returned my smile. “This coffee shop was spoken of very highly over at the Peach Coast Inn, where I’m staying. After the breakfast they served me, I can understand why.”

  “Mr. Pelt—Willy—I didn’t get an opportunity to offer my condolences to you Saturday. I heard you and Fiona were friends.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Marvey. Your words are a great kindness. Do you have time to join me?” He gestured toward the extra seat at his wood laminate table.

  I consulted my Apple Watch. There were still a few minutes until I had to be at work, and the library was less than a block away. Glancing over my left shoulder, I found several sets of eyes watching us with open curiosity or blatant surprise. This included Anna May, Etta, and Dabney. I suppressed a smile as I turned my back to them and settled onto the chair. “Thank you, and you can just call me Marvey.”

  “Thank you.” Willy folded his long, lanky body onto the little chair. “You’re the only person who’s acknowledged that Fiona and I were friends.” His gaze swept the area. I sensed his resentment. “It seems like she didn’t have many of those here.”

  Searching for a comforting response, I recalled a comment Viv had shared during our coffee break yesterday. “People didn’t know Fiona well. I heard she was a very private person.”

  “That’s true.” A sad smile hovered over the man’s thin lips. He was perhaps fifteen years older than my twenty-eight. His rich auburn hair made his skin appear even paler. “I’d wanted to organize a small memorial service for her once the deputies release her body, but I’m afraid the effort would be wasted. I’m not convinced anyone would come.”

  I felt sorry for the poor man. He needed to share his grief with others who’d cared, but he’d come to the wrong town for that. “I’d come. And I’m sure there would be others.”

  “No, it’d be a wasted effort.” A trace of anger tightened his voice.

  I sought to change the subject—and slip in some investigating. “How long did you know Fiona?”

  “Almost ten years.”

  “Wow. That’s a long time. How did you two meet?” I sipped my mocha and felt the jolt of the extra espresso. My gaze dipped to the few crumbs on the white porcelain dessert plate in front of Willy. He seemed to have enjoyed Anna May’s peach cobbler.

  “I was her uncle’s lawyer.” The happier memories chased the shadows from Willy’s broad features. “I own a law firm in Beaufort. That’s in South Carolina. Fiona’s uncle, Leroy Lyle, was one of my biggest clients. Fiona was very close to him. Lung cancer took his life almost three years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Her uncle had died three years ago, her husband last year, and now Fiona was dead. It was like death had been stalking her. A chilling thought.

  “Thank you, Ms.—Marvey. Leroy wasn’t just a client. He was also a good friend. Now they’re both gone.”

  My heart ached for him, losing two friends so close together. I couldn’t imagine the grief. “It was nice of you to come to Fiona’s first author event.”

  “I wanted to surprise her.” His eyes clouded again. “Now, I’m sorry I hadn’t gotten into town early enough to see her before the signing. I would’ve liked to have talked with her one last time, told her how proud I was of her. She had so much talent.”

  “What time did you arrive?” Note to self: Check the distance between Beaufort and Peach Coast, and the time it would take to travel between the two. Willy’s grief seemed genuine, but I needed to cross all the T’s and dot all the I’s.

  Willy paused. “I drove straight to the bookstore and pulled into the parking lot. I didn’t have time to stop at the hotel. It was after four o’clock, and the signing had started. I met Betty Hayes and her son, and Nolan Duggan on my way into the store.”

  That sounded plausible. Nolan had entered the bookstore alone, but Betty and Bobby had arrived just minutes after him. Willy had been with them. “How long of a drive is that? I find the time and distances between places fascinating.”

  Willy flashed a co-conspiratorial smile. “Well now, it’s not much of a drive, only about a couple of hours. I didn’t even rent a car. Stopped for brunch and still made it in less than two hours.”

  “But you were highly motivated to attend Fiona’s signing.” My smile faded. “We didn’t know much about her. Now that she’s gone, I regret not taking time to get to know her better.” I felt guilty for lying to him, but consoled myself that my misrepresentations were in an effort to get justice for Jo—and Fiona.

  Willy looked around the café again. “I know Ms. Betty and her son have unjustly maligned Fiona’s character to everyone in this town who’d listen. I have a feeling that would be pretty much everyone. Buddy Hayes should’ve put a stop to it. A gentleman would have. I…I would have.”

  “Maybe Buddy tried.”

  “He should’ve tried harder.” Willy’s piercing gray eyes burned with anger and outrage for his friend. “Hayes was her husband and, according to Fiona, a prominent member of this community. He should’ve done more to protect her from Ms. Betty’s slander.”

  Willy’s temper was like a thick wall between us. I was reluctant to push him while he was grieving, but the clock was ticking, and I needed answers. “Did Fiona ever say anything that led you to believe Betty’s gossip was putting her life in danger?”

  “All I’m saying is that if he truly loved Fiona, Hayes wouldn’t have allowed his ex-wife and son to spread malicious lies about her.” A scathing expression settled on his face as he looked at the other customers. “Other people will believe what they want to believe about Fiona. I choose to remember only the good things about her.”

  “But Fiona never actually said she felt threatened by Betty and Bobby?”

  “People were often jealous of her success, but she worked hard for everything she had. I told that to the deputies.”

  “Do you think Fiona was killed by someone who was jealous of her?” I searched Willy’s eyes, trying to gain insight into Fiona’s impassioned friend. He wasn’t giving me much.

  His lips thinned. “Jealousy’s an ugly emotion.”

  On that, Willy and I agreed. The librarians also had identified jealousy as a motive for Fiona’s killer. So far, the only person to whom we could attribute that motive was Betty. Now didn’t seem to be the time to share that information with Willy, though.

  “Did Fiona confide in you any problems she was having in town?”

  Willy gave me a sarcastic look. “Besides with Ms. Betty and Bobby? Fiona wasn’t much of a talker. She didn’t like to complain, but I had the feeling her marriage wasn’t happy.”

  This was new intel. “What gave you that idea?”

  Willy paused as though he wasn’t certain he should confide in me. I did my best to look trustworthy. “Before Hayes died, Fiona called me. She wanted legal advice about getting a divorce. Hayes had a lot of cash flow problems, and she was tired of him treating her like the First National Bank of Buddy.”

  “Why would Buddy need Fiona’s money? I thought he was a wealthy and successful real estate agent who’d left a trust fund for his son?”

  “That’s what Hayes wanted everybody to believe, but the truth was something very different.”

  Perhaps Corrinne had been right. Could Buddy have been in financial distress toward the end of his life? Would Fiona have wanted a divorce if he had been?

  “And then Buddy died.” I prompted Willy to keep the conversation moving.

  Willy drank more coffee. “His death was unexpected. I believe it was a heart attack. But Fiona told me Ms. Betty and Bobby were going around town, claiming he didn’t have any of the risks associated with heart attacks.”

  “Do Betty and Bobby think Fiona killed Buddy?” My team of intrepid librarians hadn’t told me that.

  Willy nodded. “That’s what they were implying. And now someone has killed Fiona.”

  In his eyes, I
read the same question that flashed in big neon lights across my mind: were the two deaths related?

  Chapter 13

  “The deputies weren’t interested in our leads for other suspects in Fiona’s murder.” Spence joined Jo and me for lunch on Tuesday as we’d arranged. We’d found a cozy table for four in a quiet corner of On A Roll, separate from most of the other diners.

  Several people already had made a detour toward us to offer Jo words of encouragement and support. Contrary to her fears, these University of Georgia Bulldog fans had accepted their University of Florida Gator neighbor.

  It was a well-known secret the deputies were focusing their investigation on Jo. Despite that, the small town was rallying around my new friend. Their reactions touched my heart. It showed how much she meant to the community that meant so much to her. I was relieved, for Jo and for myself. I hadn’t wanted to accept that my neighbors could believe my friend was capable of killing someone. Their show of support bolstered my confidence that I could make a home here—tennis shoes, coke, peach cobbler, and all.

  Now if I could just convince Phoenix…

  “Did you speak with both deputies Whatley and Cole?” Jo’s voice cracked as she seemed to struggle under this setback. “What did they say?”

  Spence’s dark eyes softened with sympathy. “They said they’d questioned Ms. Betty, Bobby, and Ms. Zelda the afternoon of the signing, and their alibis had all checked out.”

  My disappointment was almost overwhelming. “We’re Jo’s alibis. We checked out too. So could they tell you why she’s still under suspicion?”

  “The deputies think Jo’s a stronger suspect than the other three.” Spence gave her an apologetic look. “You were the last person to see Fiona alive. They also think you could’ve disposed of the bloody clothes and the murder weapon more easily than our suspects. Because of that, they said you’re their primary suspect.”

  Color drained from Jo’s face.

  I fisted my hands beside my blackened chicken salad. “Will they at least add the others to their list?”

  Spence sighed his regret. “They didn’t say no, but they didn’t appear inclined to.”

  Jo stared down at her chicken noodle soup. “And in the meantime, I have a murder charge hanging over my head, and foot traffic at the store has dropped off.”

  The sensation of being watched made my skin itch. My attention drifted from Jo to an older woman sitting alone at a small table diagonally in front of us. Delores Polly was the administrative assistant at St. Michael Catholic Church. She also accompanied the choir on the piano sometimes during the Saturday evening Mass.

  Delores was dressed quietly and conservatively in a plain peach dress with a modest neckline and tight sleeves. Her thick, round glasses masked half of her face and magnified her serious gray eyes. I smiled at her in greeting. Delores narrowed her gaze at me.

  I returned my attention to Jo. The homicide investigation must be affecting my friend’s sleep. Her makeup did little to mask the circles under her eyes. And she’d been biting her fingernails again. I drew a deep breath, exhaling on a sigh. The scents of savory soups and seasoned meats had joined the aromas of fresh breads and strong coffee.

  Reaching over, I squeezed Jo’s left forearm as she sat across the table from me. “This is only the first day the store has been open since Fiona’s murder. The decline in shoppers isn’t a reflection of whether people think you’re innocent or guilty.”

  “Marvey’s right.” Spence allowed his gaze to circle the coffee shop. “Just a few minutes ago, several people came by to give you their support. Everyone’s still in shock, Jo. Give them time to recover.”

  Jo spooned up her soup. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “There’s something else you need to know.” Spence’s tone was reluctant. He gave Jo and me a cautious look.

  Jo seemed apprehensive. Her tone was stiff. “What is it now?”

  “The deputies asked me to stop interfering in their investigation.” Spence shifted his gaze from Jo to me. “Well, they specifically asked that Marvey and I stay out of their way. They said when they have something to report, they’ll contact the Crier.”

  “We’ll do our best to stay out of their way as we gather information to prove Jo’s innocence.” I shrugged my shoulders, then adjusted the collar of my powder-blue blouse.

  Jo continued to play with her soup. Spence barely touched his grilled chicken and cheddar sandwich on whole grain bread. I ignored my salad. Lunch would’ve been a celebratory meal if the deputies had at least agreed to spend as much energy focusing on Betty, Bobby, and Zelda as they were spending on Jo. But since they’d rejected our request—and had gone the extra step of warning us not to interfere in the case—the atmosphere was much more maudlin.

  My gaze was drawn once again to Delores’s table. She scowled as she returned my stare. Had I done something to offend the church’s pianist? I combed through my memories.

  “Marvey, do you think it’s a good idea to ignore the deputies?” Spence’s question interrupted my thoughts. He gave me a look of such grave concern I almost doubted myself.

  Almost.

  I took a deep drink of my iced tea, which the locals referred to as “sweet tea.” Who’d have thought there’d be so many cultural differences within the nine hundred seven miles separating Brooklyn, New York, and Peach Coast, Georgia?

  “Perhaps ignoring the deputies’ orders isn’t the brightest idea I’ve ever had, but how would I feel if I didn’t do anything and our worst-case scenario became real?” I trusted them to understand I was referring to Jo’s arrest. I didn’t want to spell it out.

  Spence held Jo’s worried gaze as he spoke. “I won’t speak for Marvey, but I’d feel horrible.”

  “So would I.” My tone was grim.

  Jo dropped her soup spoon. “I can’t ask either of you to risk angering the sheriff’s department—or worse—for me.”

  I reached across the table to grip Jo’s forearm again. “This is bigger than you, Jo. There’s a murderer in Peach Coast.”

  “That’s what I’m saying.” Her voice was dancing on the cusp of hysteria. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’ll be careful.” I released her arm.

  Spence corrected me. “We’ll be careful. I’m not going to leave the two of you to investigate a murder on your own. We’re in this together.”

  “Thank you.” The tension in my neck and shoulders eased.

  Jo silently assessed Spence and me. I could sense her searching for words to change our minds. Finally, she gave a heavy sigh and tugged two books from her To Be Read tote bag. “All right. If you’re both determined to continue this investigation, I’m grateful. Believe me. But I’m also worried.” Jo passed Spence and me a copy of In Death Do We Part. “As Marvey asked, I’ve brought you each a copy of Fiona’s book.”

  Although I’d seen Fiona’s debut mainstream mystery in the library, I skimmed the back cover description again. “Fiona’s writing will give us some insight into her personality. Criminal psychologists say that to identify the killer, it helps to know the victim.”

  Spence looked at me with a combination of amusement and admiration. “That’s good insight.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Scoff if you want—”

  “I’m being sincere.” He held up his hands, palms out.

  “— but whatever we learn about Fiona will help us identify potential suspects in her murder.”

  Jo swung her gaze between Spence and me. “What’s our next step?”

  Despite my efforts to ignore her, I was aware of Delores’s unceasing surveillance. Why was she staring at me? Or was I being paranoid? I glanced at her again, and again encountered her vexation. No, I wasn’t imagining things.

  Doubling down on my efforts to block her from my conscience, I sat back against my seat to consider our approach. “Since the deputies w
on’t re-interview Betty, Bobby, or Zelda, we’ll need to follow up with them ourselves.”

  Spence leaned into the table. “The hardware store where Bobby works is on my way home. I’ll stop by after work to talk with him.”

  “Great.” I recalled Zelda’s business card was still in my purse. “When I get back to my office, I’ll give Zelda a call to see if she’ll meet with me.”

  Jo looked from me to Spence and back. “Which one of you is going to talk with Betty?”

  I stared at Spence, trying to think of a persuasive argument for him. I came up empty. “I thought you might want to speak with her.”

  Spence gestured toward me. “I thought she’d be more comfortable speaking with you, woman to woman.”

  “Oh, no.” I waved my hands. “Everyone likes and respects you, Spence. You’d have a much better chance of getting her to open up.”

  Jo chuckled. It was good to hear her laughing again. “I’m glad you decided I couldn’t help with the interviews, since people wouldn’t feel comfortable speaking freely in front of me. I wouldn’t want to interview Betty about the murder of her ex-husband’s wife, either.”

  “Humph.” I crossed my arms in mock irritation. “It’s very convenient for you to use that reasoning now, isn’t it? You resented the suggestion when it kept you away from Spence’s dinner party.”

  Jo laughed harder, as I’d hoped she would. “If you can’t see the difference between missing Spence’s dinner party and skipping Betty Rodgers-Hayes’s interview, then you’re just hopeless.”

  Spence tossed her a grin before facing me. “Let’s talk with Betty together.”

  I smiled. “Good idea. You can take the lead.”

  He laughed. How would he react when he discovered I wasn’t joking?

  A flurry of movement drew my attention to the other side of the aisle. Delores rushed past our table, generating enough wind to flutter my napkin as she sailed past us. I shifted on my seat, tracking her progress toward the front exit.

  What was that about?